Shock and Awe
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Jack has an experience that shakes him to the core…


Title: Shock and Awe (1/1)  
  
Author: Sheryl Martin/Nantus  
  
Email: xfdragon@zoominternet.net  
  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM,   
  
World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created   
  
for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or   
  
trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story,   
  
are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is   
  
coincidental and not intended by the author.  
  
Archive: anywhere you want! Helio, S/JD... anyone wants it, help yourself!  
  
Rating: PG-13, with angst and UST to the max… but no more than I think you'll see in   
  
any episode! Sam/Jack! Warning: a bit of graphic description here, no worse than   
  
television but be warned… not good stuff neither!  
  
Spoilers: Season Seven   
  
Summary: Jack has an experience that shakes him to the core…  
  
Shock and Awe (1/1)  
  
By Sheryl Martin/Nantus  
  
She couldn't stop crying.   
  
It had started in the shower, in the empty locker room that the women had finally   
  
wrangled from The Powers Above. The Sanctuary From All Things Male. She had kept   
  
shaking as she scrubbed the shampoo from her hair; the soap from her body and reached   
  
for a towel.  
  
The other women in the locker room hadn't said a thing; left her alone. It was one of the   
  
unwritten rules about the SG teams, giving them their space. Because even if you didn't   
  
know what they were doing, or did, or about to do you knew it was important enough to   
  
give them as much leeway as possible. And to stay out of the line of fire.  
  
The problem started when she began throwing everything out of her locker at anyone in   
  
the area.   
  
And started banging her head against the wall.  
  
And grabbed her boot.  
  
****************  
  
Jack O'Neill looked at General Hammond, a blank look on his face. "Sir, this isn't exactly   
  
my department."  
  
The senior officer nodded. "I hear you. But McKenzie's a good two hours away and if   
  
she's hurting herself that much…" He shook his head. "I don't think she'll take him   
  
seriously. Not like the good Doctor has a lot of field experience."  
  
"Ya think?"  
  
"Lieutenant Jefferson was in there." He gestured for the officer to step forward. "Give   
  
Colonel O'Neill as much info as you can."  
  
The blonde shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "She was fine, sir… I mean, she   
  
started crying, but we left her alone. Didn't want to pry, you know?"  
  
"Right…"  
  
"She grabbed her boot; smashed her safety razor up and got the blade out. Then she   
  
started waving it around and shouting that she was going to cut herself up. We figured   
  
she was joking until she slashed Henderson across the arm."  
  
Jack looked up. Hammond nodded. "Nothing major. Didn't even need stitches."  
  
"We left and went for help." The young officer bit her lower lip. "I've never seen her so   
  
wrecked, sir. It's like she lost her best friend."  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Hammond gestured for her to return to the end of the corridor   
  
behind the small barricade. He looked at Jack. "Happened five hours ago, more or less.   
  
Marks."  
  
O'Neill let out a low whistle, cupping the back of his neck with one hand. "Oh, man… he   
  
was a good officer."  
  
"One of our best." The General agreed. "His SG team made it back with his body."  
  
"And let me guess…" He jerked a thumb towards the closed locker room door. "She took   
  
command and dragged him through the Gate."  
  
"She's a good officer."  
  
"She was a good officer." Jack rephrased the statement. Rubbing the back of his neck he   
  
looked at the closed door. "Okay, I'll try to talk to her. But no promises."  
  
"All we need is to stall until McKenzie gets here." The bald man repeated. "I just want   
  
her to connect with someone other than him; ground her for the time being."  
  
"Right." Taking a deep breath the Colonel stepped towards the door. "Just don't shoot me   
  
with the tranq gun, 'kay?"  
  
*******************  
  
He pushed the door open slowly. "Hey, it's me. It's Jack." The dark room remained silent.   
  
"Look, I heard about Marks. I want to talk to you about it."  
  
A sniffle came to his right, against the row of lockers.  
  
"Hey?" His voice dropped lower, softer. "Hey, come on… you know I hate talking too   
  
much."  
  
"Bastards killed him." The shaky voice drifted towards him. "Shot him in the back. We   
  
fell back; tried to cover…"  
  
O'Neill crossed his arms. "Yeah. I can imagine it."  
  
"They shot him in the back." She repeated. "We didn't even know he was dead until we   
  
got through and put him on the ramp."  
  
He stepped forward, seeing her in the dim light creeping in under the door. Curled up   
  
against the lockers she waved a hand at him. "Doc couldn't do anything."  
  
"Hey, she can only do so much." Crouching down he moved closer. "Janet's the best we   
  
have."  
  
"And he still died." She brushed a dark strand of hair out of her eyes. "He still died and I   
  
never got to…" A sharp light jabbed his eyes as he saw the bare razor in one hand.   
  
"Marks was a good man." He whispered. "He never said anything but the best about you;   
  
about your entire team."  
  
"But I never told him…" A ragged sob. "I mean, we knew it was there and we knew it   
  
was against regs and now…" The razor dashed across his field of vision and then out into   
  
the darkness.  
  
Putting his hand down on the ground he flinched as his palm hit a wet spot. Then the   
  
smell hit him, familiar and sweet.  
  
Blood.  
  
"Come on, let's get you patched up and then we'll get a beer; chat things over." He didn't   
  
dare move closer; crouched in his spot. "A nice cold one sounds good about now."  
  
"Yeah, right." She shook her head. "They're going to court-martial me and toss me on the   
  
street. No pension, no life, no…"   
  
"Hey, come on. Let's get out of here, okay?" Jack lowered his voice. "No one has to know   
  
anything. It's just between you and me and I won't tell."  
  
"That's the problem!" She shrieked, sending him back on his heels with the outburst. "I   
  
never told him, I never said what I was thinking; what I was feeling…" Her voice   
  
dropped down again to a whisper. "He died and never knew…"  
  
"He knew." Clearing his throat Jack continued. "He knew. Even if he never said anything,   
  
he knew."  
  
"I don't know." She replied. "I'll never know now, will I?"  
  
The razor flashed again in the dim light. He felt the warm spray on his chest, his face, his   
  
hands.  
  
****************  
  
"General." Samantha Carter closed the door behind her. Hammond gestured for her to sit,   
  
a weary frown on his face.  
  
"I assume you've heard."   
  
She shifted in her chair. "Kind of hard not to."  
  
"I don't mean to put you on the spot, but did you have any inking that Captain Kelsey was   
  
having difficulties…" He left the sentence hanging.  
  
"Not at all, sir." Sam shook her head. "I had only met her a few times in the lab and never   
  
in the field, but she never gave me any indication that she was having problems."  
  
Hammond shuffled some pages in front of him. "Well, there'll be an investigation   
  
naturally." His eyes locked with hers. "Colonel O'Neill has already given his statement."  
  
"How's he doing?" She tried to make it sound as neutral as possible, failing miserably.  
  
"As best as can be expected." The General looked down. "Sam… this is unofficial."  
  
The blonde shifted again. "Understood, sir."  
  
"Jack's got to be upset over this. Damned upset. He trained Marks and helped him bring   
  
Kelsey along as a good 2IC." He exhaled slowly. "But it's more than that." His eyes   
  
found hers again, locking on. "You heard what they spoke about in the locker room."  
  
"Yes." She began to rub the palms of her hands on her legs. "Unfortunately that much has   
  
made it out."  
  
"Jack's a sensitive soul, no matter how he tries to hide it." Hammond smiled. "And he   
  
hides it quite well at times." The smile drifted away. "But I think he's going to have a   
  
hard time dealing with this and, frankly, I don't think he should be alone right now." The   
  
pen scribbled across the page. "I've given him a week off and all of SG-1 as well." He   
  
looked up. "Dr. Jackson and Teal'c will probably be able to entertain themselves on base.   
  
But I'd like you to keep an eye on Jack."  
  
"Sir?" Her voice rose an octave.  
  
He put up a warning hand. "Don't put me in the spot of having to admit what I know   
  
because as long as I don't say it I don't have to act on it and I don't have to deal with it."   
  
Hammond shook his head. "Some days I'd like to change places with your dad and let   
  
him deal with all this." He sighed. "Go to him, Sam. I don't want any more casualties   
  
from this. Physical or mental."  
  
******************  
  
The sun had just come up when she parked in front of O'Neill's house, still a bit   
  
disoriented after her time in the mountain. Locking her door she tucked her hands in her   
  
leather jacket pockets, the morning chill beginning to push into her bones.  
  
"Colonel?" She rapped her knuckles on the door lightly, then harder. "Colonel?"   
  
Reaching into her pocket she retrieved a set of keys, pausing for a second before inserting   
  
one into the lock. "Colonel?"   
  
Pushing the door open she strode into the house, glancing from side to side as she called   
  
out again. "Jack?"  
  
The empty beer bottles counted five on the living room table alone, with a sixth on the   
  
kitchen counter. Working her way around the stacks of magazines and books she walked   
  
towards the bedroom, calling out again. "Jack?"  
  
"Jack?" Standing in the bedroom doorway she stared down at her commanding officer,   
  
clad in only a ragged Air Force Academy shirt and boxer shorts, sprawled out across his   
  
rather large bed, his face mushed into the pillows in such a way that she wondered how   
  
he managed to breathe.  
  
Bending down she went to retrieve a half-eaten chocolate bar from his hand as it began to   
  
melt around his fingers, shaking her head. But as her hand touched the warm skin his   
  
eyes shot open, jerking away from her.  
  
Bleary-eyed and open-mouthed, he pushed himself up the bed away from her, up against   
  
the wall. Sam didn't move, letting him focus in on her.  
  
"Jack…"  
  
"Whadda?" He blurted out, dropping the chocolate bar on the floor. Rubbing his eyes   
  
with the palms of his hands he shook his head hard from side to side. "Whattahappen?"  
  
"Everything's fine." Raising her hands she watched his panicked face. "I just came by to   
  
see how you're doing."  
  
Climbing over the edge of the bed away from her he looked at the wall, holding his head   
  
in his hands. "I'm fine. Now go away."  
  
"That's not exactly reassuring." Walking around she sat down beside him. "I know you're   
  
off your routine, but six beers is a bit much for breakfast…"  
  
Putting his hand over his mouth he belched loudly, filling the air with the beery scent.   
  
"Ah… might have been." Getting to his feet he shuffled towards the bathroom. "Just go   
  
away, Carter."   
  
She winced as the door slammed, hearing the unmistakable sounds of a man dropping to   
  
his knees to "worship the porcelain altar"; as she thought of it. Turning on her heel she   
  
retreated to the kitchen, searching through the cupboards for anything edible.  
  
The smell of fresh coffee made its way under the bathroom door and past the odor of   
  
recycled beer, forcing Jack to sit up from where he lay on the tiled floor. "Go away!" He   
  
yelled again, his voice hoarse. Resting his forehead on the cool floor he listened to the   
  
sounds, domestic sounds, woman sounds in his kitchen.  
  
And threw up again.  
  
*****************  
  
Sam walked around the kitchen, waiting for the toaster to do its assigned job. She hadn't   
  
been that drunk too often but had dealt with her father enough times to know that   
  
anything stronger than coffee and dry toast was out of the question. A cursory survey of   
  
the kitchen hadn't revealed too many O'Neill secrets other than the fact that he loved his   
  
pasta and soup and actually kept steaks in the freezer. Pouring a large mug of black   
  
coffee she placed it on the counter, flipping the dry toast onto a clean plate.   
  
Stepping towards the bathroom she listened for a second, waiting for any obvious sound.   
  
Hearing none, she continued until she was in front of the door. "Colonel… would you   
  
like some coffee?"  
  
Something akin to a moan came out.  
  
"Black coffee. In a clean mug. Well, one you 'borrowed' from the mess."  
  
A choking moan.  
  
"I'd slip it under the door but it might be messy."  
  
The door opened half an inch, enough to let her see the face of her CO. "Carter. Go.   
  
Away."  
  
She shook her head. "Can't do that. I have orders."  
  
He sighed, resting his head on the doorframe. "I guess if I told you where to stick those   
  
orders you'd have me up on sexual harassment charges."  
  
"In a second." She gestured to the kitchen. "Look, you'll feel better with some coffee and   
  
something in your stomach."  
  
"Thank you, Doctor." Swinging the door open he stumbled by her, his sweat-soaked shirt   
  
sticking to his skin. Falling into the kitchen he leaned on the counter and focused his   
  
attention on the mug, grabbing it with both hands to carefully sip it.  
  
Sam stood by, watching. She slid the toast closer to him. "Try this. Settle your stomach."  
  
He looked at her. "I'm not stupid, you know. I've actually been this drunk before and   
  
survived." Turning his back on her he snatched up a piece and headed for the living   
  
room, stumbling once and sloshing some coffee over the edge of the mug. "I think…" He   
  
mumbled.  
  
"Sir…" She rubbed her forehead, following him in. "Sir, it wasn't your fault."  
  
Jack stopped, turning so quickly that he ended up almost bumping noses with Sam, the   
  
coffee once again escaping from the mug and dripping onto her shoes.  
  
"Go. Away." He snarled, his face turning scarlet.  
  
"No." Grabbing the mug out of his hand she walked around him, placing it on the table.   
  
"I'm not leaving."  
  
"That wasn't a request. It was an order."   
  
She shook her head. "Overridden by a superior officer." Sam tried to smile. "Nice try,   
  
though."  
  
Throwing his hands up in the air he stomped towards the bedroom, slamming the door   
  
behind him. The blonde woman shook her head, waiting.  
  
The door opened again as Jack stormed out again. "It's not about her or about Marks.   
  
Don't you think I've seen enough death in my lifetime?" He roared into her face, the   
  
sweat and tears dripping down his face.  
  
"Then what is it about?" She asked, her voice low and soft. Her stomach began to ache.  
  
"Marks told me he was interested in someone on the base; someone in SGC. If he had   
  
told me who it was…" His voice cracked. "I wouldn't know what to tell him."  
  
"You would have told him it was against regs." She offered.  
  
Shaking his head he retreated to the couch, covering his face in his hands. "How could I   
  
say that? How do I tell him… how could I have told him to ignore the regs and go for   
  
what he want… wanted?"  
  
Sam didn't move; didn't approach him.   
  
"And then he didn't…" His voice cracked. "She never knew. When she was dragging his   
  
dead body down that ramp she never knew how he felt." Bunching his hands up he   
  
slammed them down hard on the cushions. "I tried to tell her but she wouldn't listen…"  
  
"She was freaked out, sir." She added the rank almost as an afterthought. Kneeling down   
  
beside him Sam put her hand on his knee. "There's no way she couldn't know how he felt;   
  
even if he never verbalized his feelings."  
  
"What?" He looked at her, the edges of his mouth turning up despite the pain in his eyes.   
  
"Verbowling?"  
  
"She knew." The blonde sighed. "You can't take any of this on yourself."  
  
"I have to, Sam." Jack looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists.   
  
"Because someday that could be you."  
  
She shook her head. "No."  
  
"It could be me you drag through that Gate…"  
  
"No." She said louder, pressing down on his knee.  
  
"Get a nice view at Arlington…"  
  
"No." Her grip tightened, nails digging into the bare skin.  
  
"Nice eulogy from Hammond…"  
  
"Jack, stop it!" Sam snapped into his face, their noses almost touching. "Stop it!"  
  
He froze, locking eyes with her.   
  
"Those two aren't us; can't be us; won't ever be us." She exhaled.  
  
"Well, sure." He mumbled. "He's dead. So is she."  
  
"Yes. They are." Her grip loosened on his skin. "And we're not."  
  
"Rather cruel, aren't you Major?" The title slapped her across the face. She didn't budge.  
  
"Yes, I am. Learnt it from you." He winced. "Look, if something happens tomorrow and   
  
you don't come back or I don't come back I don't want to think about you being like this."  
  
Jack rubbed one blood-shot eye. "Gee, thanks."  
  
Releasing her grip she kept eye contact with him, moving up to sit beside him on the   
  
couch. "Jack, it's not about them now, it's about us. I can't say that I don't get scared   
  
sometimes out there, that I don't have nightmares about exactly the same thing Kelsey   
  
had to deal with." Her voice rose in tone and deepened in anger. "But at least I know you   
  
know, even if we can't do anything about it. If Marks had dealt with it…"  
  
He lifted a finger. "Don't put this on him."   
  
"I'm not putting it on him. Or on her." The blonde woman shook her head. "I'm putting it   
  
on life, the universe and regulations. Whatever you want to call it; the fact is they didn't   
  
deal with it."  
  
"And we did?" Jack's voice dropped to a whisper. "Did we really, Sam?"  
  
Her voice caught in her throat, choking her response. He shook his head, looking down at   
  
the carpet. "Marks wasn't a fool. Kelsey wasn't stupid; she knew the rules and how it'd   
  
affect her and her team. She could have tranferred out; he could have asked for it.   
  
Hammond wouldn't have refused, he's dealt with this enough."  
  
Sam pursed her lips, staying silent.  
  
"This isn't something new; this happens." He looked across the room. "I just never   
  
thought I'd have to deal with it."  
  
"Are you talking about them or us?"  
  
"Both." He glanced at her before returning his gaze to the carpet. "It's just so damned…   
  
hard at times." His hands flew up to cover his face. "Please don't think that was a joke."  
  
She couldn't help smiling. "I'm not going to say anything."  
  
A sniffled chuckle came from behind his hands. "Thanks."  
  
"So what do we do about this?" She reached for the mug of coffee, taking a sip.   
  
"Well…" Dropping his hands down into his lap, he shook his head. "I'm going to go back   
  
to bed because I have one hell of a headache and can't think anymore." He took the mug   
  
from her. "If you'd like to join me I could sleep most of the day away, I think." The words   
  
were scratchy and hesistant.  
  
Getting to her feet she reached down, taking his hand. "You snore, you know."   
  
"Oh, and you don't?" Jack stood up. "Sam, I can't…" He shook his head. "I'm not good at   
  
this communication thing. So I've been told."  
  
"Could have fooled me." She smiled. "Right now I think we both need to just 'be'. No   
  
Colonel; no Major; nothing but just us."  
  
"And the entire…" His hands waved in the air making nonsensical gestures.   
  
"I think…" Sam paused, chosing her words with great care. "I think we're just fine the   
  
way we are now. Maybe not what we want, but right now it'll have to do." Her head tilted   
  
to one side. "What do you think?"  
  
"I think… I'm tired and still kinda drunk and my throat hurts and my stomach hurts and   
  
all I want to do is curl up for a nap with my woman." His eyebrows rose. "Was that   
  
politically incorrect?"  
  
"Don't worry about it, sir." Taking his hand again she led him towards the bedroom. "I'll   
  
let you get away with it this time."  
  
"Gee, thanks." Climbing up onto the bed he fell back onto his back with a groan. Kicking   
  
off her sneakers the blonde woman moved up beside him, placing her head on his chest   
  
as his arm automatically snaked around and under her, his fingers taking ahold of the belt   
  
loops on her jeans. Her arm fell across his chest, reminding him of an ice cavern so many   
  
miles away and years ago and even further emotionally.  
  
"Carter?"  
  
"Hmm?" Her eyes were closed.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Getting you into all this." Closing his eyes he let his head fall to one side, picking up the   
  
faintest smell of her shampoo. "Maybe you would've been better off in the astronaut   
  
program."  
  
"Nah." She shifted her head, feeling the moist shirt stick to her cheek. "And miss out on   
  
all this? Not on your life."  
  
"If… something ever happened to me…" He mumbled.   
  
"I'll hunt the bastard down and skin him alive."  
  
"Oh, good. Glad to see that you've been taking lessons from me."  
  
She chuckled. "Learning from the best."   
  
"Now you are lying."   
  
"Maybe. Now let's get some rest." Her voice came to him from a distance.  
  
"Yes, 'mam." His chest rumbled with her laughter. "'Nite, Sam."  
  
"Goodnight, Jack."  
  
----------------------------------the end----------------------------------------------- 


End file.
